Then and Now
by lockhartgardner
Summary: A glimpse into Alicia Florrick's mind during the final scenes of the season 4 finale. Contains spoilers for the season 4 finale.


**The events (with a few minor exceptions) and dialogue of this story are taken directly from the final scene(s) of 4x22. Everything else is my interpretation. **

**This is the first fic I've ever written, so hopefully it turned out okay!**

* * *

She was alone, just like last time. Was it just like last time? The same crowd cheered distantly for the same victorious election result for the same candidate in the same hotel, and once again, she was removed from the celebration. Now she sat on the edge of the bed, alone by choice. Then, her life had been changed permanently with the utterance of a single word—a single name, rather—and had she wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to muster the strength to fake joy and happiness. So it was different, after all, Alicia Florrick decided. She'd changed a lot since Peter's last election, she had to admit. Election. Governor Peter Florrick. Governor. Then the underdog to win State's Attorney, now Governor of a whole state. Mrs. Peter Florrick, once again Mrs. Peter Florrick, sitting on a bed, alone. Waiting.

A good time for self-reflection, perhaps. She'd gotten quite adept at drowning out the crowd. Ah, the perks of public humiliation followed by an excruciatingly long season of campaigning. A sense of humor laced with more irony than ever before—that was something new. She shuffled a bit as she realized her mother had once made that same remark. Veronica couldn't be right about her; Alicia wouldn't allow it. And yet. Besides, she had changed in other ways, too, and she'd always had a dry sense of humor. Yes, she had!

It was at that moment she noticed Will Gardner standing just outside of her room, engrossed in conversation. Shit. In all the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, Alicia had forgotten she'd left things unfinished. Not forgotten—that was a lie, it was all she could think about, but it rested comfortably in her mind. It was a decision for later. A problem still to be resolved. No sense of urgency. So why did she find herself standing up, wanting to walk over to him, wanting to kiss him in the midst of this crowd that was cheering for her husband? That was what she felt. Not what she wanted, rationally wanted, that is. But she wasn't thinking rationally, and she knew it. This disturbance had broken her sharply from her reverie, and as a result of this shock to her rationality, her emotional side had taken over. And it willed her to walk over to Will.

As suddenly as he'd appeared, he disappeared. The man was still there, but he was not Will, she knew that for certain. She had been projecting her feelings onto random strangers. Unacceptable. And worst of all, she felt disappointment! Disappointment! That her former lover wasn't really there, at her husband's election party! How could she be disappointed? Clearly, her body hadn't gotten the message: I. DON'T. WANT. TO. PURSUE. A. RELATIONSHIP. WITH. WILL. Weeks of repetition of that same mantra, and here she was, contemplating something crazy. Something Alicia Florrick would never do; something Alicia Florrick was sure she never _wanted_ to do. Thus, she reproached herself, or began to, when the man of the hour—her husband! The one and only Peter Florrick! The new Governor of Illinois!—walked in.

He couldn't have looked any happier, Alicia felt.

"There you are!" Peter exclaimed. Alicia smiled. Had to smile. It was the right response. And it was, she knew, a genuine one, even though it was obscured by the thoughts swirling around in her head about Will, about Peter, about life, about work, about politics.

"We did it!" Peter continued. He pulled her towards him—a hug. She laughed.

"Thank you." Third time's the charm. Now she had a reply for him.

"Aww, no reason to thank me," Alicia decided to say. She appreciated it. But this was Peter's moment, and, having just been thinking about leaving Peter, she wasn't inclined to accept the compliment. In fact, the less about her right now, the better. His moment. "You did it. How are you?"

But he insisted, wanted this to be a shared experience. "Good. How's it feel to be the First Lady of Illinois?"

Quite a title. How absurd! That was her! Her impulse to laugh temporarily overrode her desire to get away, be alone, make a decision, and then carry on. She grinned. "Odd. Odd. I need to freshen up."

"You good?" Peter's concern did not go unnoticed. She could tell he was suspicious of her disconnect—not suspicious, aware. Good. A welcome change. Something else different between then and now.

"Good. Yeah, I'm good. Just... unfresh," she said with a smile, remaining near Peter only for a brief moment as she walked towards the bathroom. The room filled with people, and once again, Alicia found herself removed from the crowd, alone, now in the bathroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror. This haircut suited her well, and she loved the dress she was wearing, but that was beside the point. She took a deep breath, well aware of the monumental change she now planned to make. She stared at herself. Nodded. Considered. Then, suddenly, decided it was time. She looked down, and pulled her phone out of her purse. She dialed, paused for a moment, and put the phone to her ear.

"Hi," she said breathlessly. Her certainty was not enough to overcome her anxiety.

A knock on the door, at precisely the wrong moment. Her reply came a moment later: "One second!" Snappier than she'd intended—was she annoyed or confused at the interruption? In any event, it, like her hair, was irrelevant right now. The words she planned to say next were anything but.

"Do you still want to talk?"

She paused, barely waiting for Cary to say "yes."

"Meet me at my apartment. I... I'll get away. Right now." Yes, that was good. She would be comfortable in her apartment, as comfortable as one could be when waiting to turn their life upside-down in every way.

Alicia lowered her phone, and stopped to think for an instant. Those words had really come out of her mouth. The idea she'd had in the back of her mind was now becoming a reality. Her task—the phone call—accomplished, Alicia studied herself. She ran her hands over her face, felt her cheeks. More deep breaths. Though she prided herself on her excellent poker face, she could tell that it was as plain as day that she looked worried. Oh well. Now it was time to go. She nodded, and watched her own reflection give her the affirmation she needed. She took one more deep breath, and then reached for the door. She quickly gave Peter an excuse, or maybe she told him her plan, or maybe she just brushed by him. It didn't matter, what mattered was that she was now on her way home.

A narrow, familiar hallway stood before her as she exited the suite, and she was so preoccupied with her imminent decision that the striking then-and-now contrast she encountered did not register with her. Then, tears. Now, determination. Larger-than-life posters and cardboard cutouts of Peter floated among the crowd as she cut through, but Alicia was only aware of the crowd enough to determine how to pass through it most efficiently. Taking another deep breath, Alicia stood up straight, her resolve masking her fear.

Somehow she made it back to her apartment, mulling over her decision as she drove home. Florrick, Agos, and Associates. She was going to be a name partner—that was exciting! Name partner, First Lady of Illinois, tonight was bringing her a lot of new labels. She allowed herself to dream about "changing the world," as Cary kept insisting they would. Perhaps they wouldn't change the world, but she could certainly use her new position to change the worlds of a few people. At the very least, she was going to be changing her own world. These thoughts preoccupied her as she parked her car, and rode the elevator up to her apartment. She contemplated, for a moment, taking the stairs, as a symbol of her break from the past. But she lived on the ninth floor, and was wearing heels, and now was not the time for silly superstitions.

She unlocked her apartment, set her keys down in their usual place, everything as normal. Then, Alicia walked straight to the refrigerator, looked inside, and, not finding what she sought, closed it. She looked at the door. At some moment, undoubtedly close but still unspecified, she would open that door and say the words that would change everything. This called for a small glass of wine. No, this called for a full glass of wine, a nearly overflowing glass of her favorite red wine. She poured herself this glass, and watched the door. Unbearable silence. Stillness.

Then she remembered the portable speaker her recently deceased client Matthew Ashbaugh had given her. Perfect. He had used it in an attempt to drown out other people when he suspected they were trying to spy on him and ultimately harm him. She would put it to a use not all that dissimilar: drowning out the thoughts that could potentially cause her to reconsider her decision and ultimately harm her.

Dammit. Cary still hadn't arrived, and Alicia needed something to do. Laundry, that would work. She had some towels to fold, and she could decide on the exact words she planned to say as she folded them. They needed to be perfect. They needed to convey her certainty, and not betray her fear. She had multiple reasons to go through with the new firm, but she could not deny, would not attempt to deny, that what had caused her to stand at this spot in her kitchen with this glass of wine at this moment about to say these words was Will Gardner. And she knew he'd be upset, devastated, even, personally and professionally. But there was no other way—she'd tried talking, she'd tried to control herself, and nothing had worked to her satisfaction. She was unhappy at Lockhart/Gardner, anyway, appalled to be part of their management practices. Going with Cary was the natural solution, the best thing Alicia could possibly do. Of this she was certain. Still, she was anxious. Still, she needed to find the right words. There could be no ambivalence.

Cary would be here soon; there were no more towels to fold. For the second time that night, Alicia gazed at her own image in the mirror.

"Is this stupid?" she asked herself. There was something about saying those words out loud, the bizarreness of having a conversation with her own image, that solidified her decision. No, it's not stupid. Another deep breath. Then, finally, the knock. Immediately, Alicia moved to open the door. She took a moment to gather the courage she needed, and nodded.

Her opening line, as rehearsed: "Thanks for doing this here."

A very happy Cary Agos stood in the doorway, trying not to show his eagerness. "No problem," he said, "What're you thinking?"

And then it was time for Alicia to say the perfectly fitting words she'd decided upon earlier, time for Alicia to verbalize her decision. A slight smile crossed her face as terror, exhilaration, apprehensiveness, optimism, insanity, and pragmatism blended together in her mind. Then, someone else's words had changed everything. Now, her own words would.

"I'm in."


End file.
